


Locked Down Tight In Hunterland

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: Mending The Broken Things [2]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Actors being friends, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Real World, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Showrunners and other actors just mentioned, This is an experiment in which I take The French Mistake's canon and add something from our world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: When the Winchester boys are sent into another world in which their lives are a TV show, something's got to happen in their own. We can't have a paradox on our hands, so what happened to the actors in The French Mistake? Something tells me it wasn't a bachelor party....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have based a lot of Jared and Jensen's mannerisms and speech patterns in this piece on videos I have watched where they talk to interviewers and to fans. However, I want to stress that I mean to IN NO WAY represent these men as if I truly know what they think and how they feel. This is not only a hypothetical situation but a hypothetical version of the two of them - as they were represented in the alternate universe created by Supernatural's writers in "The French Mistake". I deeply respect these two men as well as all of the other actors, directors, writers, producers, and crew members on the TV show Supernatural and as such do not write this to cruelly mock or otherwise make fun of them in any way.

The two men break through the house's window with their bodies, falling over a couch amidst a shower of glass. They both groan as they rise, the shorter of the pair massaging the hand he had put out to catch himself on the falling pad. But there WAS no falling pad; just cloth, a couch frame, and an incredibly hard wooden floor, not to mention _glass_ \- in his hair, scratching his face, and a larger piece is sticking out of his forearm. Blood is already dripping from it as he stands up. "Uhh, Jared -"

His companion hisses as he too sees the glass shard and his eyes grow wide as his head shoots up. "Cut! We need a cut, for Jensen's -" his lips twitch as the shorter man, Jensen, snaps "Don't say it...," But Jared scrunches his lips and makes the pun: "cut!" Jensen sighs the sigh of the long-suffering. 

Both men look around as Jensen smacks his lips and lowers his face, while Jared lifts a hand to high-five one of the camera guys, and they freeze. There is no ringing bell, no "Cutting! We're cutting now!" Called by an irascible Bob Singer. Not even an A.D. or makeup gal swooping in to blot Jared's sweaty face or look at Jensen's freely-bleeding arm.

"No one's calling 'cut', Jared," mutters Jensen to his co-star as he spins around to take in the entire room. His voice cracks as he spots no lights or cameras or anybody - _"Why isn't anyone calling cut?!"_

"...I don't know," Jared no longer looks quite so pleased with his joke. His eyes are wide and serious and he looks worried. Really worried. "I mean - this is an actual _house_ we crashed into just now, right? I don't think it's the set. There are no flats..."

Jensen is nodding. "Right. No lights, no cameras or crew - and hang on, weren't we supposed to be falling OUT the window?" He points emphatically towards the place they came from.

Jared bobs his head furiously. "Yuh-yeah. Yeah, we were!" He strides back to look out the window and grows pale. "Um, Jensen,"

Jensen is picking the minute pieces of glass out of his hair and off his clothes. "Man, I'm gonna have to get bandaged up again. Didn't they learn anything from 'Lazarus Rising'?"

"JENSEN!!!" Jared's tone of voice is booming but he looks genuinely scared as he shouts.

Instantly, Jensen forgets about the glass and the blood and moves to comfort his on-screen brother and best friend. "What's up, Jared? You good?"

"I - no," Jared whimpers as he points outside. "Look..." Jensen does, expecting to see the concrete floor and florescent lights of their studio in Vancouver, but instead he is looking at a salvage yard. Outside. In the dark. And it looks as though it is about to start raining.

Jensen shakes his head and swallows hard. This is impossible. "We're doing a bit, right? Somebody on the crew is messin' with us? - You got us, Brad!" He shouts out the broken window. "All right, ha ha, good one, now pull that backdrop down and call cut, willya?" There is no response but the sound of wind rising. "Wind machines," Jensen assures his co-star. "They're really milkin' this." He steps over crunching glass and stands in the center of the window, about to speak again; but the scent of grass and rain hits his nose and he is reminded of summer storms in Texas. And that - as far as he knows - nothing and no one on a show set can fake. No one can replicate the smell of clean grass and water-full air, or the electricity that sparks across the skin and makes your hair stand on end. "It's real," he whispers as he turns to his companion. "Jared, this is REAL! Where the hell ARE we?!"

"Um," the taller man clears his throat and pushes his hair back, blinking. "...Bobby's house, I think?"

"Bobby, like, in-show Bobby. Okay." Jensen takes a deep breath. "I'm not freaking out, this is - this is fine, totally fine. It's great. I can't even get my ARM looked at! How could this have happened???" he exploded.

Before Jared can answer, a vaguely-British, certainly European, voice floats sarcastically over to them. “Well _this_ certainly worked even better than expected! Couldn’t even manage to properly fall through a blooming window!”

Jensen whirls around, automatically reaching out to Jared, who moves up next to him as they both catch sight of the person speaking: a leanly-muscled, wiry man with a scruffy dirty-blond five-o’clock shadow and an incredibly low v-neck. “Sebastian,” Jensen breathes, and the tension leaves Jared’s shoulders.

“Thank god.”

“Uh, no – God has nothing to do with it. And you two had better scamper quick!” He makes a shooing gesture with his hands, and then his eyebrows rise and come together. “…Wait. Just _who_ are you?”

Jensen’s eyebrows lower in anger. He is getting real sick and tired of this joke real quick. “Oh that’s nice,” he snaps, jerking one thumb at himself and then at the taller man beside him. “Jensen and Jared, the STARS of this two-bit reality show you guys have apparently started running! This isn’t friggin’ funny—where the hell is Bob?”

“Bobby? Your surrogate father is away on a job at the moment, _**Dean**_. I suggest you make yourselves scarce – and keep your heads down – just in case Raphael isn’t clued in to this little…mix-up.” The wiry fellow rubs his hands together and his eyes crinkle at the edges in a grin. He looks incredibly pleased with himself. “Not BAD, Bathazar,” he murmurs. "Not bad at all."

“What the hell are you—” Jensen moves towards him in irritation that mounts enough for him to want to punch this guy in the face, but with a fluttering sound the person who had been talking to them is gone. “Son of a—!”

“Whoa, Jensen. That…that was a lot more budget than we’ve got for CGI.” Jared points out weakly. “More budget than we’ve EVER had, honestly.”

“I don’t think that _was_ CGI, Sasquatch.” Jensen uses his pet name for his co-star and speaks gently. He doesn’t want to freak the other out unduly, but… “I’m pretty sure that was the real deal.”

Jared’s face again grows pale. “Come again?”

Jensen shakes his head. “I don’t want to believe it, but I think that was – I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this – Balthazar. And he thinks we’re … Sam and Dean.”

“Dude. No. They’re—Sam and Dean are CHARACTERS, man! I mean, we’ve been playing them so long they feel real sometimes, but no way. No _way_. This is nuts.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers feverishly through his hair.

“I’m with you, man. Can’t believe what I’m seein’.” Jensen sighs and looks down; noticing blood is still dripping from his forearm. Damn. “Well, look, let’s get out of here anyway, get me to an Urgent Care or somethin’, grab some food, and head home. Maybe I’m wrong, you’ll get home to see Gen, and this’ll get chalked up as the best prank ever pulled on the set of Supernatural.” He claps Jared on the shoulder and raises his eyebrows. Thunder booms outside as he waits for an answer. “Whaddaya say?”

Jared blows a long breath out of his nose. What Jensen says makes sense; they’ll just go get him fixed and head out early today. Yeah. Hopefully this is either a really weird prank or a really bad dream. But at least they’re talking again. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”

***

The two men go outside to see –no way– the Impala parked in the driveway. When Jensen hustles over with an involuntary grin, saying “Baby!” he finds her keys after fishing in his coat pocket. He had felt something in there after getting Jared to pull the chunk of glass out of his forearm and wrap him in a hand towel they found in...Bobby's...kitchen. Jensen winces now as he withdraws the keys, torqueing his arm as he unlocks the car door. He is about to get in when he thinks of something and looks across at Jared. The other man raises his eyebrows as Jensen presses the button to open the trunk and goes to the back, lifting it up.

There are the duffel bags – too heavy, and rather the worse for wear – for typical prop bags. And then he lifts the false bottom, holding it open with the usual wooden bar as his instincts as Dean kick in.

“…Holy shit,” murmurs Jared. The guns are there. So is the salt, the angel blades, jugs of holy oil, Ruby’s knife… the gun that was—Dean’s—first sawed-off; but it’s got actual bullets that smell of actual rock salt, and there are silver ones as well. And ohmygod ohmygodohmygod the JOURNAL. Jared grabs it and flips it open, turning multiple pages. There is writing on every single one. Writing and newspaper clippings and— “It’s real,” Jared whispers in a voice that is both awestruck and shaky with dawning terror. “I gotta—I gotta go call Gen. I can’t wait until—”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jensen waves the other away. “Do whatever you gotta do, man.” As Jared dials his wife’s number and walks away, Jensen notices a couple of hex bags and some larger sacks that appear to have some things in them. A slip of paper in his—his as Dean’s—handwriting reads: ‘BURY’. He opens one burlap sack and the reek of rotting dead flesh makes him reel backward. “Oh for the love of—” He covers his nose and chokes as Jared walks back. “Don’t…don’t look inside that,” Jensen sputters. “I feel like I’m actually gonna throw up.” He gags and presses his fist against his lips. “Right now.”

Jared isn't really listening. “Jensen, I tried to call Gen, and Misha, and even Clif – but I didn’t get voicemails, I got,” he holds up his phone and puts it on Speaker: …THE NUMBER YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH IS INVALID OR NO LONGER IN SERVICE. [BEEP] WE’RE SORRY, THE NUMBER YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH IS INVALID – he snaps the phone shut, eyes wild. “This is not okay. I am not okay! First Balthazar is real, and then the Impala is real, and now – and now this?” Jared’s lips are shaking as he adds “Why is this happening—who is doing this to us?!”

Jensen’s expression grows focused and thoughtful. “Those are damn good questions, Jar. Get in. We’ll find a hospital and then a computer. I think we need to do some research. Oh,” he looks over at his scene partner as they climb in the car. Rain begins to spit from the sky and hit its roof. “First we gotta bury a couple of severed heads somewhere.”


	2. Chapter 2

They make it to a hospital - Jensen swearing as he remembers that Dean and Sam never use valid credit cards, and then wondering if HIS card will even work as it says Jensen Ackles, and if all of their friends' cell phone numbers are invalid, how will their own information be any different? And then he figures they are doing the Sam and Dean thing by giving their actual legitimate information. "What are the odds, huh?" he says to Jared with a quiet chuckle as they sit next to one another in the waiting room.

Jared is whipping his head back and forth, looking around. He’s been quiet and jittery ever since his rash of unsuccessful phone calls. It is not like him to be so quiet. Jensen nudges him. “What? Sorry,” Jared jerked in shock and blinked. “What were you saying?”

Jensen lets out a laugh to release his tension. “I said, what are the odds of us, two TV actors, playin’ these—total badasses—for five and a half seasons, and somehow we get – I don’t know, sucked into their world? It’s crazy, man.”

“Yeah,” huffs Jared, eyes catching Jensen’s and then flickering away to look at everyone else. “Yeah, you’re tellin’ me. I’m just waiting for something to come out of the woodwork like that angel said. If it really WAS an angel, and…”

“And not Seb punking us. Yeah.” Now Jensen looks around too. “At least we’ve got ourselves an instruction manual.”

Jared blinked. “…What – what're you talking about?”

“Well, we’ve got, uh, Dad’s – John’s journal, and people’s cell phone numbers that hopefully DO work, and an arsenal in the car, so—” The lights flicker and fritz overhead as Jensen is holding out one hand ready to make a sweeping gesture of reassurance. He closes his eyes and presses his lips together. “…Was that real?” His voice is now shaky as Jared gulps and the building begins to shudder around them, glass breaking in windows and light fixtures. “OH GOD, JARED—GET THE SALT!” Jensen screams.

Other hospital patrons shout “EARTHQUAKE!!!” as the staff tries to keep everyone calm.

"How would they find us here?" Jared demands. "And where in a hospital would SALT be lying around, Jensen?! C'mon now! Nurse, nurse, hey. Could you please patch up my friend? His arm got cut by some glass and it's bleeding pretty bad, he's lost some blood and I think might be going into shock." He grabs a dark-haired woman and pulls her over to Jensen, lips flattening and hazel eyes pleading. She nods and he says "thank you so much."

The woman turns to Jensen and looks him over, catching his arm in her hand and examining the bloody towel. She begins leading him away and he calls back "I'm not going into shock--you KNOW where we are! The monsters are out there, Jared!" But he follows the woman, who beckons to two other attendings to help her get this man in the ER and provide him with a sedative to steady his obvious nerves.

"You seem to be suffering from some anxiety," says the nurse as she leads him through a swinging door to a bed with wheels that rests against the opposite wall alongside scales and several I.V. poles. She pushes firmly on his shoulder. "...and possible delusions as well. Please sit down." After he does so, she shines a penlight at each of his eyes.

Jensen shakes his head. "No, I'm not delusional, I'm... Look, lady, I'm an actor. I work on a TV show called Supernatural, which I'm sure you've never heard of 'cause I have reason to believe that me and my buddy out there were snatched off our set and dumped here, in this worl- whoa. Whaaaaat is that you just gave me?"

"Morphine," the attending nurse says as she nods to the two other people assisting her and hands one the needle she had just inserted into a vein in Jensen's arm. "An adequate dose for us to fix you right up with some stitches and hold you for Raphael."

"Okay...wait, wait." Jensen's voice is slurring and his eyes grow foggy. Some adequate dose they gave! He tries to focus, blinking hard and holding himself in an upright position as best he can. "Didja just say... _Raphael?_ "

The woman nods, voice cool and matter-of-fact and serious. "Yes I did. We have been tracking you and your brother, though I must say, this clueless act of yours is quite convincing, Dean. Zephaniel," she says to one of her two companions, "Go keep watch over the other one. Make sure he does not leave." Zephaniel gives a sharp nod and returns to the waiting room with his companion. 

Jensen has to warn Jared, but he finds himself lying back on the bed and the only movement he can manage is to flop his head to one side and let out a grunt as he tries to speak. He had been led away from the door, his rolling bed is now pushed against the far wall and restraining him somehow. "Relax," the nurse, obviously also an angel, says soothingly. "We are going to find out everything we want to know. Trust me." She reaches up and pulls a curtain around his bed before leaning closer. "So tell me, Dean Winchester, where is Balthazar? And what is he planning with Castiel?"

Jensen grunts and blinks, willing the fuzziness to leave his system and his head so he can get out of this bed. Dean never has to deal with being drugged up! This isn't fair! He glares at the nurse angel and snarls, his words coming slowly as he makes sure they aren't slurred, "I have no idea what they're planning, but even if I did, I would tell you to eat me." He feels pretty good about his defiance, almost like Dean, until the Angel's eyes flash at him and she presses her thumb into his open arm wound. "Augh! Mother of —!"

"Now I want you to answer me again, but think carefully this time." She digs her digit deeper into his arm, twisting around and filling the ragged gash with more blood that pools and drips. "Bear in mind, there is so much worse that we can do to you."

Gritting his teeth and jerking his head up straight, shaking it, Jensen looks into her eyes. "Look, lady, angel, this has REALLY not been my day, okay? We started with a tough emotional scene and then I had to fall through a friggin' window." He chuckles without humor, closing his eyes for a moment as he shakes his head. When he continues, his tone of voice is plaintive. "... I'm worn out, and all I wanna do is go to my trailer and SLEEP. I swear I don't have any of the information you want, because _I DON'T KNOW IT._ "

She stares at him a bit longer and sniffs, withdrawing her fingers from his arm and shaking off drops of blood as he grimaces. "Fine," she says. "I will just go and retrieve your brother. I am sure he will have some interesting things to say, as well as some places vulnerable to intense pain." 

Jared. They're going to torture him. Jensen rears up off of the bed with immense effort, seething, his green eyes furious. "Don't you DARE –"

"Sit down," she says coldly, snapping her fingers and bindings that glow with power cinch around his torso, arms, and legs. "You had your chance to tell us what we want to know, and you couldn't." Her voice is calmly conversational now. "Stay put; you don't want to further irritate that wound." She puts a hand on his cheek as though concerned, and Jensen works his lips and clenches his jaw, glaring up at her in fury. 

As she turns and walks to the waiting room door, Jensen gathers all of his strength and shouts out: "RUN, JARED!!"

***

Jared sat waiting for ten or fifteen long minutes before two orderlies came out to get him. Even before they reach his seat and say “Sir, you need to come with us,” he can tell something is wrong. Maybe it’s the fritzing lights from earlier or the intent, almost deranged look in their eyes; maybe it’s the day he’s had, or the years he has spent playing Sam; All he knows is that as they come closer he stands up and backs away.

“How’s Jensen?” he asks.

“Your brother needs you to come quietly,” one of the orderlies says. “He is in distress.”

Jared clenches his hand inside his jacket pocket, clutching the handle of the angel blade he had stashed there after he and Jensen found them inside the trunk. Always good to take precautions, right? “If Jensen’s in distress in there for a little cut on the arm, then something is wrong,” he hears himself say, and then he hears the echo of an aborted scream from his co-star as the door to the ER shuts. 

Jared’s eyes bug out and he slashes out with the blade. One of the two people jumps at him, and the metal cuts into the man’s hand with a spark of light and a hiss. Jared immediately takes off running in the opposite direction. “Move!” He shouts at nurses and doctors and other patients as he clomps down the hallway. “Please please move out of the way!” His arms are pinwheeling as he skids to a stop and dives into a stairwell and back out again – doesn’t want to trap himself upstairs – and then he sees a linen room and a door that reads ‘Supply Closet’. How can he throw his pursuers off? Jared stares around and spots a fire extinguisher inside a glass container affixed to the right-hand wall. He hustles over, jams his elbow into the glass to break it, and then sprays the width of the hallway with white foam, aiming particularly hard at his followers. 

As people scream and intercoms blare around him, Jared throws himself inside the linen room and searches wildly inside for something he can drag in front of the door. There is an inner door to the supply closet, which locks from inside. Placing his angel blade at the ready on a table by the door, Jared searches inside the supply closet and finds a low shelf that is wide enough to bar the door. He hopes that Jensen is all right as he hauls the shelf over.

Meanwhile Jensen tries to break his bonds. He twists his wrists and flattens out his hands in an attempt to worm his way out of the arm restraints, but nothing happens. His arm is killing him, courtesy of that angel woman digging into his wound. Thinking about her stalking down the hallway to hurt Jared makes him throw all of his weight to one side of the bed and then the other, trying vainly to throw himself off-balance and out of the bed, or to rock himself free because that lady will likely be coming back very soon; either that or she’ll send someone else to try and get some information out of him. He lets out a shout of frustration. What can he do? What would Dean do in a situation like this? 

Well, first of all, Dean would know how to use a lock pick. Jensen does not. Secondly, he would probably use his own blood to draw a banishing sigil. Jensen has plenty of blood to spare at the moment, since it’s dripping down his arm, but nowhere to draw a sigil—and truthfully, he doesn’t remember exactly what the banishing one looks like. Okay, third… Thirdly, Dean would try getting ahold of either Cas or Bobby. Jensen can do that; or at least he can try. Bobby is busy, according to Balthazar, so praying to Cas it is.

Bowing his head a little and thinking how absurd it is to be praying to an ACTUAL ANGEL instead of calling out to his friend Misha, Jensen clears his throat and says “Uhhh, hey, Cas? It’s me…” He wants to add ‘Dean’ because he figures that is the easiest way for him to get attention, but can’t make himself do it. The tone of his voice is all wrong already anyway. Too high, for starters, and panicked as he thinks about Angel Girl getting to Jared and coming back for him…focus, Jensen. “I need your help. They’re—the angels are after Jar- Sam- and—dammit, I don’t know what you’re doing; I don’t know what _I’m_ doing, but please,” Jensen’s voice cracks, breaks, and he feels tears prick his eyes; partly as a possible side-effect of the drugs, partly because of this entirely shitty situation, and partly because he is imagining Jared getting chased down and tortured while scared out of his mind…. Jensen squeezes his eyes tightly shut and pushes that thought out of his head. “Please, Cas,” he continues, voice a croak, “I need you.”

Jensen lifts his head, opening first one eye and then the other. The hospital building shakes again and then all of the lights in the vicinity wink out. Jensen freezes in place and tries to make himself as small as possible. The door to the rest of the hospital opens with a bang and a shadowy figure enters—the lights come back on and he sees that it is one of the attending orderlies returning. Zephaniel, his face intent and eyes aglow, stalks towards Jensen’s bed; and then another figure appears, grabbing his shoulder from behind and wrapping an arm around the angel’s head and neck. A searing blue-white light escapes from the angel’s open eyes and now-screaming mouth as the second person’s open hand covers his forehead. Twisting and relinquishing his head with a sharp movement, the being drops the attending angel to the floor lifeless.

Jensen whimpers involuntarily and the figure, who had bent down to study the fallen angel, whips its head around and stands up sharply, moving with deliberate strides to Jensen’s bed. “Whoa, now wait a seco— _Misha??_ ” He automatically breathes his friend’s name as the messy dark hair and searing blue eyes come into view. But no, of course this isn’t Misha. He had just smited a friggin’ ANGEL. “Cas,” Jensen whispers. Then, louder: “Cas, what the hell is goin’ on? Why do these angels want us?”

“How did they track you down is the question we should be asking,” the angel brusquely responds. He quickly unlocks Jensen’s bonds with a touch. “What are you doing in this hospital, Dean?”

Right. He has to be Dean. “Uh, we were at Bobby’s—laying low, obviously,” Jensen snaps as he sits up, massaging his hands to get the feeling back into them, though he would rather be curled into a ball in the corner weeping than voluntarily speaking in such a way to a guy who had just destroyed a life-force with a touch of his HAND. Cas’s powers look badass on-screen, but in person they are just plain terrifying. "And, uh, Balthazar showed up -" Jensen winces as he moves his bloody arm and Castiel heals it instantly. “Thanks.” He clenches and unclenches his fingers as the angel releases the remainder of his restraints and then Jensen continues “He was there for a hot second, then he friggin’ disappeared, and so we came here because I was injured, and I wanna know why this is happening to us. But we’ve got to get to—” Jared. “—Sam. Where is he?” 

He hops down from the bed and wobbles, swaying on his feet—man, they must have given him a hell of a lot of morphine—Castiel automatically steadies him, wearing a slight frown, but Jensen does not respond to it. The last thing he needs is for his co-star and friend to be hurt or, or dead. However much Jared annoys him with his pranks and inane comments and childish antics and stupid puns, Jensen cannot imagine doing a scene without his on-screen brother there cheering him on. (Even if it is for the purely selfish reason of keeping a job and improving ratings.) He cannot imagine a world without Jared in it, and wonders why the hell they are not talking in their reality. Probably for some reason so petty and stupid that he cannot remember it. Especially now, when they are stuck in a world where angels are after them, or rather the characters they play. Hell, he may die tonight but at least he isn't going to go out from blood loss after getting cut by a piece of broken glass. Jensen consoles himself with this fact. Small blessings.

He and Castiel - Jensen has to consciously remind himself that this is Castiel, not Misha - turn and move towards the door from which the angel came. "I did not see Sam out there," Cas says. "Nor could I sense his presence." Jensen's stomach sinks.

Jared has found salt (used to cover the paths outside whenever an ice storm comes or snow hits), and iron shelves hold up practically everything in that supply closet. None of these things will do any damage to angels, and he blocked the door with a low shelf, so he figures he is going to have to make a run for it; hopefully to reach Jensen, since he should never have had the guy go in the back with that lady nurse in the first place.

She is apparently calling the shots out in the hall now. Jared heard her commanding the others to break the door down. They are having a difficult time of it because Jared had recalled one Enochian protective sigil and cut his fingers open with the angel blade to inscribe it on the shelf in front of the door. 

Now, though, he wants to make a run for it. “Where is Jensen?” He bellowed at her through the door. “You’d better not hurt him or I swear –”

“Your brother is safe for the moment. He is locked down, so to speak. It is yourself that you should be worried about now, Sam Winchester.”

“Screw. You.” Jared spits, courtesy of playing Sam for so long, and because billing Jensen as unimportant does not sit right with him. Sure, the guy is disapproving and practically silent as a rock when not on set, but he is a good dude. Jared steps to the right of the door, holding his angel blade up and at the ready. Blowing air out of his cheeks and squaring his shoulders, Jared hurls his makeshift barricade out of the way and kicks the door open. 

The door brains the first angel, giving him the chance to stab her in the chest with his blade, and then the leader is on him, grabbing his arm and trying to bear it down with her weight so he cannot stab her as well. That is when Jared hears Jensen shout from the other end of the hall: “HEY! Let go of my brother, halo-bitch!” in full Dean-voice. The nurse looks over at him in disgusted shock, and while her attention is diverted her grip loosens, which gives Jared an opening to shove her away with a well-placed whip kick. “Nice one!” Jensen says, and Jared turns, breathing heavily.

Jensen looks at Jared with his eyes soft and then runs over, expression intent. Jared smiles, wanting to say something; he doesn’t know what, other than _glad you’re alive_ maybe, when Jensen grabs him in a fierce hug, squeezing tightly. After a single second Jared returns the embrace, dropping the angel blade to the floor with a clang. Jensen lifts his left hand and rubs the other man’s hair and Jared holds him tighter, murmuring “Thank god.”

“Don’t thank God,” Jensen cracks as he lets go and claps Jared on the shoulder, backing up at long last. “Thank Cas.”

And that is when the lady angel’s eyes snap open again and she rises behind Jared’s back, but Jensen ducks and grabs the knife Jared had dropped and leaps at her, driving the blade into her chest just above her sternum. He drops her to the floor and pins her there with his knee. “Now STAY down!” Jensen snarls as the light of angelic Grace leaves her body, and Castiel stands in front of Jared. 

“Hello.”

Jared blinks and gulps as he sees Castiel – the REAL Castiel, because with one look he can tell this is not Misha. He’s so impressed that he forgets to be Sam. “Wow, it’s really an honor to meet you.” Jared sticks out his hand to shake, lowering his voice in awe. “You’re a badass.”

Castiel squints and then in the blink of an eye he has Jared by the throat pinned up against the wall. “Whoa, whoa!” Jensen says, turning away from the body of the angel looking slightly sick as Jared grunts, his eyes huge and legs struggling. “Cas, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I should be asking YOU the same thing,” the angel snaps, eyes glowing. Cutting them at Jared he adds “This is not Sam. And you, for all of your similarities to him, are not Dean – though you appear identical to them both.” Still holding Jared against the wall, Castiel reaches out his other hand and presses it on the chest of Jensen, who flinches. “You do not have Enochian carved into your ribs, yet are clearly human, and the spitting image of my friends. So I demand that you tell me WHAT IS GOING ON.” He gives Jared a shake and the tall man whimpers. “Start. Talking. _NOW._ ”

“Okay, okay.” Jensen raises both of his hands in surrender and bends down, placing the bloody angel blade back on the floor. “Just gimme a second here.” He wipes one hand over his mouth and then holds both out again. “Could you stop choking him first, please?” Jensen flicks his eyes to Jared and back to Cas. He swallows. “I’ll tell you – everything I know, which isn’t much, but I’ll tell you. Just…let him go.”

Castiel tilts his head, eyes squinty. He is likely weighing his options, and apparently comes to the conclusion that if this man, who is a doppelgänger of Dean, had wanted to stab him, he would have already done so. The angel opens his hand and Jared falls to the floor with a thump. He coughs and reaches out to steady himself, rubbing one hand on his throat and looking up at Castiel with terror in his eyes. The dark-haired angel is stone faced as he turns to this man who is not Dean and folds his arms. Jensen swallows hard.

So Jensen explains what happened to the two of them, as best he can: that they are actors in a TV series where they play two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who fight evil. They did a scene where they were falling through a window because of Balthazar when they came back IN the window here. “Balthazar – apparently the real one – told us to keep our heads down. Said something about Raphael not bein’ clued in to this…mix-up. Whatever that means. And then he ditched.” Jensen swallows again. “Look, man, we aren’t Sam and Dean, but we play them so we know how they do things and a lot about what they think. And right now I’m sure they’re pretty pissed, wherever they are.”

“And trying to get back here,” Jared coughs and then looks over at Jensen. “…Remember in our episode script, uh, Balthazar said he needed to do some magic – gave us a key and sent us… somewhere to keep Raphael off his back? What if – I know this sounds crazy, but – what if he actually DID that? Sent us here, and…”

“Sam and Dean got sent to our world?” Jensen wrinkles his brows. “You think that’d actually work?”

“I don’t know, man,” Jared shrugs. “But I’d say it makes more sense than Sera and Bob dabbling in voodoo. I mean,” he scoffs “C’mon, can you see Jeremy going for something like that?”

Jensen smacks his lips, looks down and then back up. “Nope. You’re right, this makes more sense.” He stops speaking, closes his eyes, and drops his head onto Castiel’s shoulder the way he does with Misha when overwhelmed by the stupidity of a particularly bad joke or ridiculous comment that has just been made. Instantly Jensen snaps his head back upright as Cas stares at him. Not Misha, this is not Misha. “Uhm—sorry. It’s been a helluva long day.” _Say you believe this, that you believe us. Please_ he adds in his head, forgetting for a moment that Castiel can hear those thoughts.

The angel stares at one and then the other of the two men. He may not understand how Balthazar managed to bring these particular people here, but their words ring true; they are not lying about who they are or what they do. “Yes, I believe you,” intones the angel in affirmation. Both Jared and Jensen breathe a little easier. “We must leave this place, however,” he adds. “Immediately. I doubt these are the only angels who will try to get the jump on you. And since you are not real hunters, it is only a matter of time before they succeed. We will have to angel-proof your place of residence.” 

Jensen blinks and Jared cautiously stands. “Come again?” they both say at the same time.

“It is not ideal,” Castiel explains, “But there are sigils that can make it nearly impossible for angels to enter a dwelling. Bobby may have some in one of his many books, and I could show you. Right now we must go.” He prepares to transport both of them, reaching out with the first two fingers of each of his hands to touch their foreheads.

“Whoa,” Jensen says, stepping away. “Buddy, can you, uh, just give us an address? We’ll drive.” He looks at Jared for support. “All’ a this power and stuff at once, it’s just …it’s a little too rich for our blood.”

The angel squints and then eventually nods. “I understand,” he says slowly in that ultra-deep voice full of gravel. “You are not the Winchesters so you cannot handle it.” He tosses off, “You may be able to speak to Bobby. He likely knows of an address—”

“Of a hunter safe-house. Got it.” Jensen cuts him off sharply. “We’ll go.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Jared says quickly, voice warm as he notices Jensen’s jaw tightening out of the corner of his eye. Jared waves at the angel and bobs his head. “We’ll let you get back to…everything.”

Jensen nods shortly. “Yes, thank you.” He means the thanks, though it is perfectly obvious to him that Castiel feels above babysitting the two of them. He clearly has somewhere else to be. “Don’t wanna keep ya,” Jensen significantly adds. Jared frowns, but with the same fluttering sound like wingbeats that accompanied Balthazar’s earlier disappearance, Castiel is gone. Jensen nods his head several times and looks at the floor. He checks in his pocket for the car keys. “Alright, let’s roll.” He feels fine, not fuzzy at all now. Cas must have lessened the effects of the morphine—either that, or all the adrenaline pumping through Jensen had flushed the drugs out of his system. Yeah, that’s probably it. He heads out the front door into the parking lot with Jared a step behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the chapter where I take some liberties. Well, not exactly liberties, but...I should explain. 
> 
> Since these versions of Jared and Jensen are from an alternate universe, I posit that they would have SOME similarities to their counterparts in our world, but also some differences. One of the glaring differences is that they, according to "The French Mistake", don't even TALK to each other. I sat down and thought about why they wouldn't do that, since these men are such great friends in real life. And then it hit me: Jensen is really shy, introverted, and Jared suffers from high anxiety. I thought, how can I incorporate these aspects of their personalities into my story? And thus wrote this. 
> 
> Please let me know with a comment what you think :) I hope I was able to do them both justice. And thank you for reading!

Luckily Baby is none the worse for wear. Thank goodness for that. As they head away from the hospital, Jensen reaches for and retrieves John Winchester's journal from the back seat where he had stashed it. He rests the journal on his knee and begins to leaf through it before giving up and handing the leather-bound book to Jared in the passenger seat. "Here, see if you can find Bobby's phone number in this thing. I'm sure he’s got the address of a safe-house that belongs to – somebody..." He wishes he could recall some information better, such as who has a place they can crash in, but there is so much that has happened to these guys in this show over the course of six seasons it’s insane.

Jared takes the journal from him and begins searching. Shining the flashlight from his phone, he looks sideways at Jensen, unsure if he should ask – or even if he wants to – why the guy had been so short with Castiel before they left the hospital. It was the first he had seen Jensen seriously pissed, different from the way he had been when wondering where the hell they were. As Jared clears his throat and shifts in his seat, he focuses para-naturally hard on the pages. Jensen groans, flicking his eyes sideways. He can always tell when the other man wants to say something. “ _What,_ Jared? You got somethin’ to say, just spit it out!”

“Okay. Uh, sorry.” Jared clears his throat and scratches his head awkwardly, brushing his hair back. “This is weird, this whole situation we’re in. But—you only freaked and really got ANGRY at Castiel.” Even voicing the angel’s name makes Jared smile and also swallow hard as he remembers the guy choking him. Jensen grunts and rolls his eyes, tapping the top of the steering wheel with his right thumb. Jared leans forward and attempts to catch Jensen’s eye. “I just – I wondered…why?”

“Alright. You wanna know what pissed me off, Jared?” Jensen smacks the wheel with his palm and looks at the other man. “It was Cas, okay? He comes in there like Jason Bourne with superpowers, kicking everyone’s ass, and then he acts like he’s BORED with us. Like he couldn’t care less! After finding out his two best friends may be stuck in an alternate world, he can’t be bothered to worry. After we’ve been playing them for five-and-a-half years, he just throws us off on Bobby because – I don’t know, I just…after all we’ve been through, I thought he would give more of a crap, that’s all.” Jensen shakes his head. “And you can’t tell me he hasn’t been acting weird all season. Something’s OFF, man, and Dean doesn’t realize it, but I do! What?” He looks over as his passenger starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just—you, man. You really are Dean. Meant to play him, I mean. You just said ‘all we’ve been through’ as if we WERE these guys. These characters.”

Jensen snorts. “Well I’d say we are them now,” he lowers his chin as he focuses on the road in front of them.

Jared’s laughter peters out. “Yeah, fair point, I guess.” He clears his throat. “But hey, don’t worry about Cas, man. He’s got a lot on his plate but he always comes through for us, right?”

“…Right,” Jensen sighs. “I just miss Misha, y’know? I mean, sure, he can be a dick, but he’s the kind of dick I can get used to.” Jared coughs and starts laughing. “Oh come on!” Jensen snaps. “Find Bobby’s phone number and stop talking!!”

“I didn’t even SAY anything!” Jared’s voice squeaks as he protests. Jensen smacks his lips and gives Jared a knowing glare. “Okay, well, here they are,” He rattles off the first number he found under the word ‘BOBBY’ written in Dean’s distinctive handwriting.

Jensen shakes his head. “What are you looking at me for? Call him, man!”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I’m driving!”

“Oh come on… Fine,” Jared presses his lips together and dials Bobby Singer’s first cell number. He gets several crotchety answering machines before finally he hits the jackpot. “Bobby? Hey, it’s …Sam. No, don’t hang up. Listen – Dean and I are in a tough spot. We just got jumped by some angels.”

Bobby’s irascible voice snaps back through the receiver, sounding just like Jim Beaver: “What the hell happened to layin’ low until I get back, ya idjits?”

“Well, things got a little – complicated,” Jared falters. Jensen is laughing. That's Bobby, all right. His passenger shoots him a bitch-face just the way Sam would before continuing: “Castiel saved us, but he said we need some angel-proofing sigils. And we can’t go back to your house.”

Bobby’s tone gets pointed and growly: “What’s wrong with my house, boy?”

Jared whips his head to look at Jensen, panicky. “Uh-”

Jensen nods for Jared to put the phone on speaker so he can help. He leans his head over and raises his voice to speak to Bobby. “Nothin’s wrong with it, Bobby, but Balthazar showed up and we don’t want it to be on angel radar so we left.”

There is a stretch of silence where the two men in the Impala look at each other with worry. Then “That was good thinkin’,” Bobby’s voice tells them with a hint of pride in his tone. “You oughta head to Rufus’ cabin. It’s way out in the woods, remember? Lotta lore, and I stocked up on a few provisions last time the jackass made me meet him there.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Jared says. Jensen snaps his fingers at him and mimes writing. “Oh! Hang on; um, do you…happen to know the address?”

Grumbling, “Lord almighty, Sam, don’t you remember it with that big brain of yours? I hafta do everything…,” The older hunter grunts and Jared hears him shifting papers before adding “Here,” and reading off the coordinates. “Don't say I never did anything for ya. Now get goin’ and don’t call me again – least not for a day or two.”

Jared looks down at his lap sheepishly and Jensen grins. “Got it, Bobby. You go and enjoy your pina colada an’ banana hammock.” There is a snort over the phone line and then Jensen seriously adds “But seriously, thanks. We – we really owe you for this.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll just put it on your tab.” Bobby’s tone is gruff but warm. “You boys stay safe now, ya hear me?”

Jared and Jensen look at each other. Safe. Yeah, for however long they are stuck here. Neither one wants to think about it, so Jensen says “We will,” roughly the way Dean would do. “We’re professionals, y’know.”

Jared rolls his eyes. He bets Jim – Bobby – is doing so as well. “You too, Bobby,” he says. 

“If those angels or anything else shows again, you kick it in the ass for me,” Bobby says fiercely, and both of the actors are reminded of Kim Manners, their writer and producer who passed away. But of course Bobby can’t know that; he cannot know why Jared and Jensen would feel this painful sort of warmth fill their chests in response to those specific words.

“Yes sir,” Jared says quietly. “Bye, Bobby.” He ends the call before looking at Jensen and vocalizing what they are both thinking: “We’ve gotta get back home.” The people who work on the show are family, and however awesome Bobby is or how handy Castiel would be in any fight ever – they are Sam and Dean’s family, and he and Jensen need to be with theirs.

Jared doesn’t verbally articulate any of this, but Jensen understands and he feels the same. “Damn right, Jared,” he says and guns the engine. “Let’s hope Rufus has information on stuff other than angel-proofing sigils at his house. Like how to open doors to alternate realities…wow.” Jensen lowers and slowly shakes his head. “…I can’t believe I actually just said those words. Y’wanna listen to some tunes? Get our minds off of this crap….”

“Sure,” Jared clears his throat as he closes John’s journal. “I could use a distraction.”

“Hell yeah.” Jensen twists the radio knob and gets opera, static, a talk show, and finally Steely Dan:

_In the morning you go gunning_  
_For the man who stole your water_  
_And you fire til he is done in_  
_But they catch you at the border._

_And the mourners are all singin’_  
_As they drag you by your feet_  
_But the hangman isn’t hangin’_  
_So they put you on the street, yeah._

_You go back, Jack, do it again—_  
_Wheels turnin’ round and round_  
_You go back, Jack, do it again…._

***

A while later they turn into Rufus’s driveway, turning off the headlights of the car. Because although it’s difficult to remember a lot of things and keep them straight, both men recall that Rufus Turner could give even someone like Bobby a lesson in paranoia. Thank goodness for that, because along with lore books and ample provisions, his house has a boatload of weaponry. Not to mention a gun-forge in the basement.

“This is awesome,” Jensen breathes as he takes it all in. “Terrifying, and if the real FBI ever found it, they would probably think Rufus is a gun-runner for some big crime kingpin, but still awesome.”

“Look at these books, dude,” Jared says, pushing back his hair as he bends over a bookshelf and picks up a tome. “I always thought Bobby’s lore was extensive, but this…it’s insane. Look at these sigils—some of ‘em can supposedly keep even the DEVIL at bay. Would’ve been nice to know about _last_ season, but whatever.”

“Wait a minute—” Jensen leans over Jared’s shoulder and taps on the book with a finger. “Maybe this is somethin’ only this world knows. This Rufus. Our writers don’t know EVERYTHING, right? If all of our summoning spells were real, people would be calling about demonic infestations in their houses or angels showing up. This is real magic, not just the stuff we _say_ is real in-show for dramatic purposes. We can—”

“—Here, in this house, if we draw the right sigils in blood, they’ll work,” Jared gets excited. “And maybe we can take some of these back and give them to Bob for the next episode.”

“Whoa, hold on there, Skippy,” Jensen says with a discomfited chuckle, raising his hands up.

Jared nods rapidly after a beat, looking down and pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “…Right. Right, that might be a bit too much like tempting fate. Plus, they’d think we were crazy.”

“Ya think, Jared? Here, pass me that knife.” Jensen nods at the implement Jared had brought inside, along with a few more things from the Impala’s trunk. Just to be safe. His co-star hands it over, and Jensen slices his palm open with a wince before dabbing some blood on his fingertips and spreading it in a circle on the wall next to him. “Ugh. How do the guys DO this so much? I can hear every single viewer who knows anything about blood-borne diseases screaming right now.”

Jared blinks and shrugs, taking out another blade and cutting his own hand. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to wipe down the place with a lotta disinfectant. Ooh,” he winces too. “You’re right, that _does_ hurt, Jensen!”

“Right?” The other throws out an arm and shakes his head. “I don’t get it.”

Jared looks down and rolls his lips, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Heh. Sam and Dean are just a lot tougher than us, I guess.” He squeezes his skin to make more blood ooze up and dabs the rest of it on the wall, finishing his first sigil. Jensen has completed his and moved on to the next.

“You ain’t kiddin’, man. And they’re a helluva lot more patient too—you realize we’re gonna have to stay holed up in here until Cas finishes whatever he’s doing to dick around with Raphael, or we figure out a way to get back home?”

Jared’s hand stills on his second sigil and his face grows pale. “I…didn’t think of that, actually. Shoot.” He sits down abruptly as Jensen leans across to check out the angelic sigils in Rufus’s book.

Jensen nods and purses his lips in approval of his own work in comparison to the pictures on the page. “Not bad,” he says. Then noting Jared’s position and his funereal facial expression, the older man crouches beside his co-star and claps his uncut hand on the big man’s forearm. “Hey, it’s gonna be all right, Jared.”

Padalecki doesn’t respond immediately. He eventually scoffs and bobs his head, looking to his right before at last making eye contact. “How do you KNOW that, Jensen? This…this is insane.” He laughs without real humor. “I mean, I suppose I should count myself lucky you’re even TALKING to me right now—y’know, since we’re not on set.”

“Oh come on,” Jensen scrunches up his face and relinquishes Jared’s arm with a jerk of his hand, waving said hand as he rises. “This is a ridiculous situation, man. I’m fully aware of that. But I gotta believe that everything’s gonna turn out all right. And the talking thing—” He lifts both arms in an elaborate gesture of exasperation. “Whaddaya want me to say? I can’t just—go up to people and start _talking!_ I’m not a Chatty Cathy, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.” Jared snorts and presses his lips together, eyes rising to Jensen’s again. “Our first fifteen episodes, you barely said five words to me that weren’t lines.”

“That was six years ago!”

“I know, and in six years I figured you’d’ve changed, but no. This is the most you’ve spoken to me outside our lines in…ever.” He pauses and then continues as if the thought has just occurred to him: “Hey, why do you talk to Misha?”

Jensen has turned his back at this point and his shoulders slump as he groans. They are dealing with so much crazy right now, and THIS is what matters to Jared? This is what he concerns himself with? Seriously? “Because he cornered me in between takes initially so I had no place to run. _You_ could’ve done that if you’re so desperate to talk to me.” Jensen raises up his hands and closes his eyes. “Why is this so important to you, anyway?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Jared throws up his own hands in mirrored exasperation and stands up as well, turning away from the other man.

“Ah ah, come on, don’t give me that. Yes you do.” Jensen has turned and followed the larger man, ducking his head and lifting his eyes to forcefully hold the other’s gaze. “You’ve got to have SOME reason, Jared. Spit it out, man, c’mon!” Jensen grabs the other’s shoulder and spins Jared around to face him directly. He searches the tall guy’s face for answers.

“Is it—is it really so weird that I’d want to get to know my scene partner better?” Jared bursts out. “Y-you seem like a cool guy, Jensen, but the only things I know for sure about you are what I know about Dean. I mean, for example, do you even _like_ Led Zeppelin?”

Jensen steps back and blinks, taken briefly aback. “Uh, yeah! Hell yeah I dig Zepp!”

“Okay, well, what’s…what’s something you like or some hobby you have that is separate from Dean? Different than the things he does?”

“Um.” Jensen thinks for a moment, his forehead wrinkling. Something he enjoys separate from Dean…. “Well, I play guitar. Not really in front of anybody, just for myself.” He sneaks a peek at Jared as the other nods and demands “Alright, what’s somethin’ I don’t know about YOU?”

“Me?” Jared actually jumps out of his skin.

“Yup. We’re talking now. Cards are on the table, so c’mon.” Jensen crooks his fingers, beckoning for the other man to respond.

Jared is quiet for what feels like a small eternity, and then he clears his throat and sweeps his hair back awkwardly. “I…um. I have really high social anxiety, so this – this right now, what we’re doing...it kinda makes my stomach hurt, actually.”

Jensen purses his lips and shakes his head, lifting his shoulders and hands upward in utter stupefaction. “Whoa, wait. Hold up. You’re tellin’ me this makes you feel SICK, but you _wanted to do it anyway?!_ Why??”

“Just because I don’t feel comfortable in or know how to handle social situations doesn’t mean I don’t like getting to know people – and the quickest, well, USUALLY the quickest way to do that is by talking to them!”

“But wait –” Jensen is still trying to wrap his head around this informational tidbit. “—you talk and mess around so much on set; you’re like the loudest person we got!”

Jared laughs a bit, shuffling his feet and looking down bashfully. “Haha, yeah, I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding it over the years.”

“Dude. You’re acting pretty much all the time, bein’ gregarious like that. Damn.” Jensen is impressed. He is also fascinated. “Wow. We’re not really all that different, then. I just…shut up when I’ve got nothin’ to say while you go apeshit. Huh.” He leans against a small end table of Rufus’s and raps on it once with his knuckles, smiling.

“What, dude?” Jared asks. “What’re you grinning at?”

“Nothin’, it’s just—it’s good we finally talked, Jared, but I can’t believe it took us getting sucked into friggin Hunter Land and almost tortured and murdered by crazy angels to make that happen.” Jensen busts out laughing, shaking his head wordlessly now. Jared looks at him and upon thinking for a moment and seeing the genuine mirth in Jensen’s face, he starts laughing too.

***

They end up finding and heating some soup and ham and baked beans after completing several more sigils and bandaging their hands. It has only been a day or so since they got stuck here, but it feels like weeks. The silence is pretty companionable now, though. Good thing they got rid of the elephant in the room.

“Bet you wish ya had your guitar right now, huh?” Jared asks Jensen as they wash and dry the dishes they used.

“Uh, what??” It is now Jensen’s turn to jump.

Jared shrugs. “Well, we’re stuck in this house for all day at least. Probably longer, until Balthazar gets where he needs to go and someone decides to undo whatever was done to send us here…” He laughs to release the tension. “I dunno, man—I figure you’re bored.”

Jensen jerks a shoulder, looking down. “’M not bored, Jared—I’m with you.” He shoots the other man a sideways grin, handing his just-washed plate over.

Jared takes it and begins to dry as he smiles back. Jensen begins humming. His voice is slightly scratchy at first as he starts to sing:

“ _I pulled into Nazareth, was feeling ‘bout half-past dead._  
_Just need some place where I can lay my head…._  
_Hey mister! Can you tell me where a man might find a bed?_  
_He just grinned and shook his head. ‘No’ was all he said._ ”

Jensen closes his eyes and croons the chorus in a sweet tenor voice: 

“ _Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free_  
_Take a load off Fanny, and you put the load—put the load right on me…!_ ”

As Jensen sings, Jared puts away their other dishes and sits down, listening. There is something peaceful about the other man’s voice. He seems to go someplace when he is singing, somewhere simple and calm. His face lights up and softens with something that Jared can only describe as…peace. Peace and joy, emotions he has not really seen from Jensen before, save for once after the conclusion of a really intense emotional scene. It had been a couple seasons ago, and Jensen had to walk away down the road a piece after the director called ‘cut!’. He hadn’t looked peaceful until he came back and was looking at the dailies with the director, who said “That’s it, Jensen—we got it in one take.” There had been an instant of peaceful, joyous relief on Jensen’s face then, and that was one of the times Jared thought about how truly great an actor the other man was, and wished they were close enough that he could tell him.

He looks up at Jensen now as the other lets out a sound of satisfaction and holds up two bottles of beer. “Found these in the back of the fridge! Good ol’ Rufus. You want one?”

“I thought he only drank whiskey,” Jared said. “…Or was it Scotch?” And then “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jensen pops his bottle’s top off and takes a swig.

Jared tries, and fails, to do the same. "Uhm, Jensen - ?" He blushes furiously as the other man looks up and then nods. 

"Oh, right." Jensen opens Jared's bottle for him.

"...I really hope no spirits show up here," Jared pipes up after awhile. He raises his bottle and grins. "Other than this, I mean."

Jensen rolls his eyes at the terrible pun and asks "Why would they?"

"Why WOULDN'T they?" Jared countered. "I mean, ghosts actually exist here, and it'd be just our luck -"

"All right, all right, point taken." Jensen leans forward. "Rufus keeps salt in this place, though, right?"

"I don't know, dude! I can barely remember what's happening on the show this week!" Jared squeaks.

"Whoa, man. Calm down. No need to go all Rob Benedict on me with the screaming."

Jared blinks and moves his head back, smiling sheepishly. Right. "Uhh, sorry."

"It's no problem," returns Jensen, letting out a slow breath and smacking his lips, eyebrows rising and lowering. "I get it. Believe me." The roughness in his voice sounds so much like Dean and the peaceful warmth that had earlier suffused his features while singing is long gone. He presses his hands down on his thighs as he rises, going to open all of the cabinets. He locates a large canister of salt and gets to work lining all of the doors and windows with as much precision and swiftness as Dean does.

Dusting off his hands and putting down the canister, Jensen says “Alright, now we’re good unless some slimer has immunity to salt. That’s never happened, right?” Jensen gulps nervously. "...Right, Jared?"

The other doesn't answer until Jensen puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes him gently. Jared sucks in a breath and blinks. "What? Yeah, right. Good. Uh, I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

Jensen raises his eyebrows. "About...?"

Jared waves one hand at the books and then the sigils on the walls. "These sigils, man. There are loads of them, and they're written in Enochian so they have meanings - meanings that angels know."

"Sooo," Jensen prompts, tilting his head forward and rolling his right wrist to invite his costar to explain.

"So what if one of 'em...I don't know, opens a door, or whatever - back to our world? Maybe we can use one to work a spell to get back home. All I'm saying is, I don't want to rely just on Balthazar and Cas when I can do my own research."

Jensen smacks his lips and crosses his arms. "Wow. You really _are_ a nerd." He stands still, face creased in thought, and then smacks his hands together. "Okay, gimme that book and let's do this." Jensen sits at Rufus' table and Jared does too, spinning his chair around so the back faces the table to make himself more comfortable. "What else are we gonna do, right?" Jensen asks.

Jared flashes his teeth in a smile and gives the other man a nod. "Exactly."

***

Eventually, both men nod off to sleep, one after the other. Jensen wakes to see Jared's head buried in his current book - literally. His long brown locks are splayed out across the pages. Jensen rises and moves the book, half-leading, half-carrying the larger man over to Rufus's couch. Unfortunately, Jared's legs hang off the far end, so Jensen drags the coffee table over to support his feet and tosses a couple of blankets over the big man. 

After which Jensen moves himself and his research over to an armchair across from the couch and continues to read by the ruddy light of a single lamp. Eventually he dozes off as well, head tipping back against the headrest of the chair, his snores reverberating around the cabin as his arm flops off the armrest and hangs into empty space.

Jared awakens first the following morning, and noticing Jensen had moved him and done his best to make Jared comfortable, he returns the favor by spreading one of his no-longer-necessary blankets over Jensen's torso and legs, tucking the cloth around him before going into the kitchen. He locates a pot to brew coffee and then sits at the table as he waits for the coffee to brew and Jensen to wake up. He finds and marks the page from last night in the book he had done research in, and then tries calling Gen. Even though the number is invalid, Jared hopes that somehow the thoughts he is sending out are getting through; that his wife can tell he is thinking of her.

"You expecting some Padme and Anakin thing to happen?" Inquires Jensen's voice. He is awake now and standing in the kitchen doorway. 

Jared clears his throat and closes his phone. "Uh, what're you talking about?" He asks, feigning innocence.

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Dude, please. I know you're thinking about Gen; it's totally obvious. And I get it, I just think you're gonna wear yourself out worrying about her, unless you guys have some soulmate connection through the Force or somethin'." He gets out a mug and pours himself some of the coffee that has finished brewing by now. "Seriously, though, how friggin awesome would that be? You think something and POW - it's in her brain. Be great for grocery lists. Or foreplay."

"Dude!" Jared protests.

"Alright, I'm just sayin' there's endless possibilities." Jensen waggles his eyebrows. "Speaking of which, you find anything in your research?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give credit to Amberdreams on YouTube for the excellent quality video where J. Ackles sings the song I have him singing in this chapter ("The Weight") at Asylum 14. His rendition of this song, with mouth organ and harmonies by Tim Odmunson and Jason Manns, starts at the 11:25 mark in the video.
> 
> I am including the link to the video here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VR6BHjAdfs


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